


I ship it like a gravy boat

by sarahcakes613



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Inspired by Twitter, Meet-Cute, have pity on the poor starving students in your life, your writer just wants a hot chicken sandwich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23067010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Arya doesn't have time to eat between classes, Pod brings her a sandwich. It's love at first bite.Based 100% on a tweet.
Relationships: Podrick Payne/Arya Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30





	I ship it like a gravy boat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedarkestgrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkestgrey/gifts).

> I sent a photo of a tweet to [starlux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlux/pseuds/starlux) and said "why does this sound like a Podrya fic" and her response was "because it totally is" and then the damn gif of Puss in Boots doing the eye thing, so, I had to.

Arya should have listened to Sansa. About a lot of things, but in this case in particular, about class schedules.

“Never schedule classes back to back. You can’t guarantee they won’t be on opposite sides of campus, and this isn’t high school, where they take into account how long it might take you to stop by your locker and switch books. You don’t want to be the one slamming into class when the prof’s started talking, and everyone’s staring at you.”

Arya’s fast, though, and WUWT’s campus isn’t _that_ big. She’ll be fine. Plus, this was the only elective that fit in her schedule. Unfortunately what she’d forgotten to account for, was that she’d occasionally need to stop and eat.

She’s currently trying to quietly eat from a bag of trail mix, but it keeps crinkling and the guy sitting next to her keeps glancing over. She mumbles an apology, sinking lower into her seat.

She tries to draw almonds out of the bag slowly, to minimize the rustling, but it doesn’t really work, and he keeps looking at her, his eyebrows drawn in a frown.

She feels vaguely compelled to reach her thumb out and smooth his furrowed brow, but she settles for scribbling a note and sliding it over to him.

_I don’t really have time between classes to eat =( I’ll bring something quieter next week!_

He shoots her an alarmed look, and she sinks further into her seat.

The class is only once a week, and she forgets about the encounter by the time she slides into her seat a week later. She’s just rummaging in her bag for a protein bar when a hand appears in front of her face, a bag dangling from its fingers. It’s steaming and smells like Sunday roast.

She looks up and sees the boy who sits next to her. He’s smiling, a wide crinkle that reaches his eyes. She gingerly takes the proffered bag.

“I didn’t like thinking about you being hungry all throughout class.” He shrugs amiably.

She nods slowly.

“Thanks.”

She unwraps it quickly, before the professor can start talking and the noise becomes interruptive.

It’s a hot chicken wrap, and it’s still warm.

She takes a photo for posterity before taking a bite, and then another, and a few minutes later she’s eaten the entire thing. She chances a glance to the side, and he’s smiling at her, but the smile is gone, the furrowed brow back and focused on his notes when he sees her looking.

At the end of class, she balls up the wrapper and tosses it in the bin on her way out. Her lunch-provider is right behind her, and he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“I’m Pod, by the way. Podrick, I mean, but everyone calls me Pod. Podrick Payne.”

He puts his hand out, and she grips it firmly in a handshake.

“It’s nice to meet you, Podrick Payne. I’m Arya Stark.”

They part ways, and she immediately whips out her phone. Her Twitter is a mishmash of retweeted memes and funny things that she sees around campus, and it’s the best way to tell everyone what’s going on in her life without actively calling home once a week.

> _Arya stick ‘em with the pointy end @arry_
> 
> _I told the guy who sits next to me that I never have time to eat before class and this week he brought me a hot chicken sandwich because he didn’t like thinking about me being hungry. Is he in love with me yes or no?_

She slips her phone back into her pocket and makes her way back to her dorm room.

Her roommate Shireen is on her bed when she gets there, lying on her back with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. She turns to face Arya when she walks in, waggling her phone at her.

“He’s definitely in love with you, tell me everything.”

Arya flops down next to her best friend, pointy elbows shoving to make room for both of them on the narrow bed.

“His name’s Pod, he was wearing an engineering program sweater, and he has a nice smile.” She mumbles that last bit into her comforter.

Her phone buzzes and she sees two replies to her tweet.

> _Sansa @tweettweetlittlebird is he cute? Call me, I want to know everything! And yes, definitely, hot chicken sandwich is basically the freshman version of a dozen roses. But better, because it’s food._
> 
> _Hot Pie @hotpieshotpies I wanna know more about the sandwich, tbh._

She snorts, replies to Hot Pie in a DM with the photo she’d taken. He sends back a heart-eyes emoji. She replies to Sansa via the thread.

> _Arya stick ‘em with the pointy end @arry_
> 
> _There’s nothing more to know! I’d always rather have food than roses. Unless the roses are also food?_

Her original tweet goes semi-viral overnight thanks to Sansa’s wide network of Twitter followers, and she winds up having to mute the post, ignoring further responses. She puts it out of her mind after that, until the next week and the next class, and he’s already sitting in his usual seat and there’s another wrapped sandwich sitting next to a dozen chocolate roses.


End file.
